


I Hate You (But I Love You Too)

by AutisticWriter



Series: Kisses (Femslash February 2019) [24]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Bickering, Blood, Blood and Gore, Bombs, Canon-Typical Violence, Despair, Explosions, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2019, Ficlet, Fucked Up, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Incest, Kissing, Knives, Love/Hate, Making Out, Murder, Pre-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Prompt Fic, Sibling Incest, Stabbing, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: Mukuro and Junko partake in one of their favourite activities: murder.[Kiss 24: In danger]





	I Hate You (But I Love You Too)

There’s blood everywhere.

So much blood.

Blood smeared all over Junko’s hands.

Blood all over Mukuro’s shoes.

A huge puddle of blood spreading across the floor, pouring from the multiple, jagged wounds across their victim’s body.

And she stands beside Junko, a bloodstained knife gripped in her hand.

“How are you still alive?” Junko says, tutting and driving a hard kick into the man’s chest.

He gasps, splutters and coughs up blood.

“Let me finish him off,” Mukuro says, images of slashing at his body as he screamed running around her mind. How wonderful would the despair be if grabbed him by his hair and slit his throat from ear to ear?

“Now now, sis, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Junko says, waggling a bloody finger. She puts her foot on the man’s head, digging the heel of her stiletto into his temple. All it will take to kill him will be a bit of pressure on her foot, and then the heel with shatter his temple and… “Who’s the one in charge here?”

Mukuro grimaces, adjusting her grip on the knife. “You’re a bitch.”

Junko laughs, pressing down harder (the man whimpers, blood spilling out of his mouth). “I aim to please, sis.”

“I’m the one who wants to be a soldier,” Mukuro says, not about to back down. She may be pretty submissive around Junko, but not when it comes to work with a weapon. “I can do this sort of thing much better than you.”

“Oh really?”

Junko pulls a knife from her pocket, pressing the tip against her fingertip.

And then she lunges.

But Mukuro is faster. Her reflexes far exceed her sister’s (even if her evil ideas and love of despair will never match up to Junko – and that’s not even including her beauty and bust size), so with almost no effort, Mukuro grabs Junko’s wrist, kicks her legs from under her and pins her sister to the floor.

She wrenches the knife from Junko’s hand and presses it to her neck, and smirks.

Junko grins up at her, reaching for the hand that holds the knife and smearing Mukuro’s hand with blood. “Okay… I guess you win. Go for it, you murderous fiend.”

“Gladly,” Mukuro says, standing up and taking out her own, larger knife.

She walks over to the man, still somehow alive despite his massive blood loss, and stares down at him. He stares back, terror in his eyes.

But all Mukuro sees is his despair. His wonderful despair.

She kneels down and grabs a fistful of his matted hair. The man gasps, the sound becoming a pathetic whine when she tilts his head backwards, exposing his neck.

Junko has sat up, watching with morbid fascination. She loves it when Mukuro kills people, especially when she gets a front row seat to watch.

The man’s mouth moves, but no words come out. Mukuro lowers the knife, hovering it millimetres above his neck.

“Goodbye,” she says.

And she slits his throat.

Blood sprays everywhere, splattering her shirt and spilling all over the ground.

Junko gasps, her eyes wide, staring at Mukuro and the blood that soaks her arms and shirt.

The man dies instantly, and Mukuro doesn’t close his eyes. She doesn’t care.

The moment she gets to her feet, Junko tackles her in a hug. She puts her hands on the sides of Mukuro’s head and kisses her hard, pressing their bodies together. She moans into Mukuro’s mouth, sqishing her large chest against Mukuro, and she melts into the kiss.

Well, until she remembers what they need to do.

Pushing Junko away, she says, “Have you got the bombs?”

“Of course I do,” Junko says, pulling the small but powerful bombs out of her bag and placing them on the corpse’s chest. She kisses Mukuro again, and Mukuro knows Junko will want to have sex when they get home. She isn’t complaining. “I love you, sis.”

“I hate you,” Mukuro says.

Junko laughs and nibbles on Mukuro’s bottom lip. “Yeah, I hate you too.”

“Now, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Sounds good to me.”

It may be the middle of the night, but people could see them at any moment.

Junko grabs her hand and they run, hurtling away from the scene of their crime. When they’re a safe difference away, Junko presses the button on the detonator, and neither of them flinch when the explosion rumbles behind them.

This is normal for them. It’s what life is like when you live on cravings for despair.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want me to write you a short fic, drop in a prompt at my [personal prompt meme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AutisticWriters_Personal_Prompt_Meme)!


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